🌾 When You’re Trying to Hold It All Together

There are mornings when the alarm feels like an enemy.

When getting up before the sun sounds like a dream people in another world can manage.

I’ve tried to be that 5 a.m. woman…… the one who moves slow and steady, coffee in hand, quiet time before chaos. But my body doesn’t rise like that anymore.

I’ve walked through surgeries and healing and new rhythms I never asked for.

These days, 9 a.m. feels like victory.

I used to sleep until noon, and now I’m somewhere in between who I was and who I’m learning to be again.

And maybe you’re there too…… trying to figure out this new version of yourself that exhaustion has left behind.

Because it’s not just tiredness, is it?

It’s mental tabs always open.

It’s stress that rolls over from yesterday into today.

It’s planning for tomorrow while putting out the fires from last week.

It’s the mom who can’t stop thinking,

the wife who keeps giving,

the woman who carries it all and still wonders if she’s enough.

I’m the kind who will fight for everyone I love — even when it costs me.

I advocate until my voice cracks, love until I’m empty, and believe that maybe, if I just hold on tighter, I can fix everything.

I don’t quit.

I revive.

I patch and pray and pour out.

But somewhere between saving the world and saving face, I forgot how to save a little space for myself.

Because when you’re the one everyone leans on, who do you lean on?

When you’re the one always doing, how do you learn to just be?

And when the world starts whispering about the things you didn’t get to —

the undone tasks, the missed calls, the quiet moments you dared to rest —

how do you silence that noise long enough to breathe?

Here’s what I’m learning, slowly and stubbornly:

You can love people deeply without losing yourself completely.

You can serve without running dry.

You can rest without falling behind.

And you can lay it all down without letting anyone down.

It’s not weakness to pause. It’s worship.

It’s not lazy to breathe. It’s necessary.

And maybe, just maybe, the bravest thing a strong woman can do is say,

“I’m tired — and I need a moment.”

So if you’re reading this today, and your shoulders ache from carrying everything,

if you’re the wife, the mom, the woman who feels like she can’t stop because the world might unravel if she does —

this one’s for you.

You don’t have to prove your strength today.

God already knows your heart.

He sees the weight you carry and the way you still show up.

He’s not waiting for perfection.

He’s waiting for permission —

for you to let Him hold what’s been holding you hostage.

Sit here for a while.

Let this be your porch moment.

You don’t have to fix anything here.

You just have to breathe.